


With Only Andraste Watching

by Of Elves and Wolves (Only2morrow)



Series: Ella Lavellan [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only2morrow/pseuds/Of%20Elves%20and%20Wolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a crisp morning, Solas finds Lavellan in Skyhold’s garden tending to her plants. Moment takes the two and suddenly, even their beds seem too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Only Andraste Watching

With a deep breath, Ella inhaled the crisp air of Skyhold. She found it much drier here than in the Free Marches, it was delightful, and it made the early morning air much more pleasant than the damp humidity of the marsh she once lived near. 

That exhaustion of the night was still felt in her bones, but the tea she'd procured from Lady Josephine was helping quite nicely. She adored the tea, it was like a surge of lightning in the morning, though she did put in more honey than should be allowed. A secret shared between the kitchen staff and their Inquisitor.

It was still a marvelous wonder that food was so handy in the keep, they did not spend days on the long hunt, they did not spend tired weeks cultivating the bees for honey, food simply... appeared. It was astonishing. Setting her tea down on the near by bench, she gathered her rusted harvesting tools and came to the potted elf-root with delicate hands taking a clipping from the branch and inspecting it. 

Perfect. And after making sure she held some sort of privacy... she smiled. A true beaming smile coming to those pink lips. Opening her satchel she placed the herbs in wiping a bit of her brow with her hand and leaving a small line of dirt across her forehead. 

Had the Inquisitor experienced a true night of sleep, she would have been more aware of her surroundings. Her pointed ears may have heard the quieted feet of her love softly entering the garden. Perhaps Solas was not Dalish as she was, but he was still as quiet as one. 

As she noted the hardened scowl on his face at drinking his own heated morning tea, a giggle emerged from her lips, her soiled hands leaving the dirt and a smile setting upon her lips, “Did I wake you?” she asked, her hands slipping over one another in an attempt to remove stray pieces of dirt, “I did not mean to.” 

“I thought I would find you here.” Solas smiled taking her delicate face with in his fade-touched hands and wiping the swipe of soil from her bronzed brow. A soft smile curled her lips cradling his hand upon her cheek. “It is a marvel how you can grow something as delicate as dawn lotus here.”

She was so beautiful. Such a rare marvel in dull and lifeless world, a splash of color upon a blank canvas, a haunting melody in a world of silence, a dawn lotus among weeds. He cupped her vallaslin stained cheek pressing a kiss to her pinked lips their lips dancing upon one another. 

Her lips parted in a heady mew and like a siren's call in to the deep he drew closer to her, their bodies tightly pressed against one another. She breathed, the cold air illuminating the heated breath of her lungs, her chest heaving against his, and the crest of her breaks hardening to a peak.

“Fen'Harel's Teeth.” she cursed under her breath, the iron-barked braid of her hair falling to her elven shoulders. She paused for a moment, a shy smile taking her pinked lips. Her mind seemed to be circling as her hands settled upon the lambswool of his chest, idly toying with the wolf's jawbone. “That was a lovely way to start the morning.” 

“If you approve of that, I have a few other ideas.” Solas cooed in to her pointed ear. Her entire body shivered, yet not from the cold of the crisp morning, but from the heated breath upon her, “That is, unless you have other plans, Vhenan.” 

“Not any more.” Her arms circled pressing her lithe form against Solas yet again as their lips met. Her deft hands wondered smoothing over his bare crown and allowing her lips to part in a moan. The Keep, their rooms, even the locked door of the rotunda closet seemed as far away as the Western Approach. With their lips still locked upon one another, she lead him not towards the door to the throne room, but somewhere closer, a small room next to the garden. 

With none but the statue of Andraste watching, Ella pawed at the cloth prison still keeping their two forms from touch. Dalish did not wear the frilly things of the shemlen world so with hard clanks the buttons of her blouse fell upon the stone floor freeing her chest from its captor. His lips set upon her like a beast setting upon the hunt the taunt peak of her breasts hardening even further between his teeth.

Her own lips parted in a gasp, her blue eyes blown wide in splendid surprise. She growled her feet backing up as a hand held upon that statue for stability in the earthquake of pleasure. The dreamer let out a deep growl from the depths of his throat just as the Inquisitor's spellbound hands removed the last of his clothing the threads of their clothing falling like offerings to the feet of Andraste's statue. 

Even with the reddened skin of her blush, the Inquisitor was a sight. Her tanned skin shone brightly in the candlelight of the room. Her legs were muscled enough, sculpted from years of walking, of combing through ruins, and yet, there was a softness to her, a bit of delicate femininity untouched by the hard life of the Dalish and crafted from those stolen moments away from her duties and rather with her books and vials. 

The dreamers rough hands seized upon her smoothing over the taunt peaks of her perky breasts once more, yet their journey was not complete. His hands wondered lower coming to the delicate patch of flesh that laid between her toned thighs, with a singe of electricity, he parted her coaxing her folds with his deft fingers. 

Her lips parted in another throaty moan, legs opening to him like the pages of a book, his fingers continuing upon her. She crackled upon that statue, the electricity of her magic dancing upon her skin with every tremor of her form, but still, his hands gave no quarter upon her. Solas pulled Ella closer to his nude body, the hard muscles of his chest giving greater safe harbor during her storm of pleasure than any statue of a false prophet. 

As the waves crashed over, her form still pressed so tightly against his, Solas took her with in his staff-toned arms and pressed her back against the near by stoned wall, hands cupping the toned skin of her backside. She gasped, a hand loosening the braid upon her shoulders, letting the rough brambles of her wild hair fall to her side. With exquisite form his hips sealed over hers sinking his length deep with in her heated core. 

Their lips met yet again, chest synchronized with such heavy breath that even sense began to abandon them. His hips crashed in to hers again and again with heated intensity, sinking deeper with each moment. Chilled shivers took her form, her core trembling with each exquisite ministration. 

As passion filled sweat rolled off of their heated forms they inched closer and closer to a shared bliss. Her hips reached out meeting his with each encompassing movement. His arms circled around her, utterly intertwining their bodies together as one, an untainted reflection of their shared lives. Her soiled hands cupped his freckled cheek, enclosing her lips over his as one last crash of the hips pushed their bodies to a melodic crescendo, climax taking them both. 

Their gasping breaths were illuminated once more, her backside still rounded perfectly in Solas' hands. He pressed his smooth brow against hers pushing a few loose strands of hair away from her vallaslin stained face, “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” he spoke, his voice rushed, his breath still escaping his chest. 

“Emma lath.” the Inquisitor repeated cupping his freckled cheek and pressing a kiss to the flesh, “Ar lath ma.”


End file.
